As Men Lay Weeping
by newyorktopaloalto
Summary: High school was not Spot Conlon's forte. It wasn't as if he were dumb, because he wasn't— he just hated it. Leaving Brooklyn to go to a pretentious prep school in Manhattan made his hatred even more pronounced. He was going to be bored out his mind this year, he just knew it. A high school AU— Spot Conlon centric; gen for now.
1. Prologue

A/N: That's right, another Newsies high school AU. At this point, I don't have many author's notes, except to be prepared for a bumpy and long ride.

* * *

Spot Conlon lit up his cigarette and looked wearily at the gates of Pulitzer High School— a different year, a different school, the same old routine. Blowing out his smoke in a long exhale, he leaned against a tree and watched. He didn't know exactly what he was looking at, probably just the people in general, but surveying the scene always made him feel better, like he had the chance of maybe making some acquaintances. Actually— he glanced around and scrunched his nose up, unlikely, considering he was in Manhattan.

"Watch out," came a harsh voice, and Spot clenched his fists so he wouldn't punch the guy out.

"You watch yourself, dude. I'm standing fuckin' still— you're the one who should be paying attention."

The boy, obviously older than Spot himself, swiveled around and glared down at him. He was tall, had a bandana, and looked, for the most part, like your typical jock. Except for the unnecessary cowboy attire of course. Spot wanted to laugh in his face.

"What did you just say to me, freshman?" the boy growled, making Spot roll his eyes.

"Sophomore. And you heard me. Also, if you don't want to be in the nurse's office before first period, I'd stay outta my way, eh?"

The older boy just snarled and barred his teeth— Spot hated machismo. "I'm watching you," he muttered, before walking away.

Spot just rolled his eyes and dropped his cigarette. After a moment of watching the embers burn the grass around it, he snuffed the end out with his boot. School here would be no more exciting than it was in Brooklyn, that was for sure. He sighed and walked through the gates, finally, right before the warning bell rang.

Another year, another slow, agonizing death due to absolute boredom. Spot could hardly wait.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Still setting up the plot, so this is another intro type chapter. Character introductions, and getting shit done.

* * *

"Have you heard about what happened with Tony?" Spot head whispered from behind him, the two people gossiping, regardless of the teacher trying to explain the syllabus.

"No, I haven't," he sneered, knowing that they weren't talking to him, but sick of their constant chatter. "Nor do I care, so if you could just shut up about it?"

They gave him a look simultaneously, the taller of the two boys making a little 'tsk' sound in the back of his throat, before scoffing and turning away together. Spot thought it was ridiculous that they were so in tune with each other, those obscenely co-dependent best friends whose girlfriends hated them secretly. Sighing as he heard them start to whisper once more, he clicked his pen on and off, bored, bored, bored.

He was always bored in classes, he knew everything— but his mother made him stay, said that getting a diploma was better than getting a GED, and it wasn't as though Spot had a fuckin' choice, he was a minor.

"Hey thanks, dude," he heard after a second, and he turned to his left, where the boy in the next desk was talking to him.

"What?" he muttered, glaring and crossing his arms. "I didn't do shit."

"For Tony, I mean."

"I was just sick of hearing them talk," Spot explained, flicking his head back to get his bangs out of his face. The other boy made a slight noise, obviously disagreeing, but not wanting to cause contention. Spot might give him contention, regardless.

Spot didn't help people unless he had a vested interest in them, few and far between, unfortunately for most. Of course, he didn't even know 'Tony' person, so why on Earth would he be helping him?

"I don't even know him," he hissed, knowing that the other boy wasn't even paying attention anymore, but needing to get the last word in.

"You do now," the teen grinned, holding out his hand and smirking boldly.

"Antonio Higgins, though most people call me Tony. And yourself?"

Spot gave the hand a look, fingernails slightly dirty from smoking, but the rest of the hand smooth, as if taken care of.

"Spot Conlon," he finally replied, taking Tony's hand and shaking it.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're an asshole?"

"People call me worse, trust me," Tony answered, rolling his eyes and taking his hand away after a moment. "I mean, the two asses behind you probably would have called me worse, right where I could hear them, so…"

"Yeah, why is that? You actually an asshole?"

"People think— well, people think I'm snobby, you know?"

Spot gave him a look and a slight headshake, indicating that, no, he had no idea what in the world Tony was talking about.

"Right, you're new. Um, I'm blunt about it— I'm rich, well, my family is. People think that I'm a snobby rich kid."

"And you are…?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want to hear it," Tony replied, grinning and shrugging as the teacher called him out for talking.

"You smoke?"

"Yeah," Spot mumbled, packing up his things and giving a peace sign to the two assholes that were sitting behind him.

"You asking me to skip to bum one offa ya?"

"Sure," Tony replied, shrugging and shouldering his bag, leading Spot through the throng of exiting students to an outside hallway.

"So, why you here, kid?"

"Ain't a kid, and you know, fighting."

Tony gave Spot a look reminiscent of the one he gave to the older boy earlier, and Spot felt the irony.

"I've been told that I'm confrontational."

"And you are…"

"Yeah," Spot agreed.

"Huh."

And they smoked in silence for all of third period.


End file.
